


Hale Storm

by Goldenpetal13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenpetal13/pseuds/Goldenpetal13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek get caught out in a storm</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hale Storm

Stiles can’t believe that Derek dragged him all the way out here just for a wild goose chase, though he had seen the evidence and he’d agreed with the grouchy werewolf at the time, at least there was one lead less they had to worry about.

 

Derek kept looking up at the sky and by the time Stiles did the same they were stuck in the middle of the damn meadow as the fast moving thunderstorm blew up around them.

 

“Run,” Derek growls and vamooses off so fast towards Stiles’ jeep that Stiles’ brain helpfully adds the swirly air thingys that are on roadrunner cartoons.  God he loves those cartoons, he totally gets the coyote but wonders why the creature simply doesn’t order take out instead of all the insane Acme stuff, but the things Stiles could do with…

 

“Ow,” he flinches as the giant hailstone does it’s best to knock him unconscious.  Inner rambling monologue over with he concentrates on following after Derek as fast as he can and tries not to yell too loudly at the multitude of stings and bangs raining down on his far more frail and breakable human body.

 

Its moments like these that he envies them their werewolf abilities, the hailstones are four times larger than he’s used to and are slamming into him remorselessly, enough that he knows he’ll bruise nicely.  If he were a werewolf he’d be fine and could shake it off without a problem.

 

Too busy protecting his head he slams into something solid and falls to the icy meadow in time to see Derek loom over him.  And that sour brooding wolf can loom when he wants to.  And apparently also manhandle a certain Stiles Stilinski so that…  Hey wait, he’s looming closely over Stiles and none of the hailstones are hitting Stiles anymore.

 

Baffled Stiles crouches there and tries to reign in his unruly brain that is taking a dive for the gutter.  Luckily the hail is still going strong and he meticulously files away the sensation of the wolf so up close and personal for some alone time later on.

 

Not sure if he’s supposed to talk or not Stiles opens his mouth to start off another epic conversation, this time Derek might actually talk back instead of threatening to kill him in a new and exciting way, but the hail turns to rain and his werewolf umbrella snarls, “Car, now!”

 

He’s never been to a country with monsoon rain, he’s seen it on TV and now he’s running through it to his jeep.  It’s not individual droplets of water it’s a giant bucket that’s been tipped up and by the time they jump into the relative safety of the jeep they are both soaked to the skin.

 

There’s too much water to drive anywhere so they’re stuck for ten minutes and Stile does his best to fill the awkward silence by babbling on about the cycle of water and then he gets distracted by osmosis, lightening, because hey it’s right there, when he notices Derek flinch at each lightening strike and do an abortive move to cover his ears as the thunder booms shaking the jeep and them in it.

 

Oh, damn werewolf hearing must be giving Derek hell right now.

 

Reaching out he covers the wolf’s ears for him and then lies, “Dude, totally terrified of storms, don’t mind me while I get close so you can protect me, okay?”  He can see the cogs whirling in Derek’s mind and then Stiles scoots closer pulling the wolf’s head down into the juncture of his neck, “There you can bite my throat out with your teeth if I annoy you.”

 

The man doesn’t fight so Stiles sits and waits the storm out whining about the chemistry teacher and how much of a douche the guy is.  Which naturally leads to the coach and how the man can’t get his name right and makes him sit on the bench all the time.  And then the pesky canteen lady now has it in for him and smirks when she serves up his curly fries, he knows she has totally done something to them.

 

If it wasn’t for the fact that Derek is big and scary and intimidating, this would be so like the time that Scott and Stiles had watched the scary movie that had freaked Scott out to the point that Stiles had to stay over for a week so the kid would sleep.  Okay so they were eight and in hindsight the movie with the high teen-age content might have been a bad choice.

 

“Hey the storm’s moving away,” Stiles crows in triumph releasing Derek from the death grip he’d been in.  And finally the rain has calmed down enough that Stiles can see through the windshield.

 

Staring the jeep he drives them back to his arguing that it’s the closest and it has heating, hot water, and a dryer for dry clothes.

 

Getting Derek up the stairs and into the bathroom isn’t too hard, getting Derek out of his wet clothes takes longer and Stiles has to wait out in the hall.  So okay he’d gotten a little aroused and Derek had scented the air before kicking him out.  The bathroom door opens a crack and wet clothes fall in a heap on the hall floor.

 

Not even giving into the sarcasm Stiles picks them up, carries them downstairs and sets them drying.  Then he makes Derek a nice big set of sandwiches with the man’s favourite filling and puts a soda out for him.

 

Hurrying upstairs he gives into his impulsive side and lays some clothes out for Derek, then he waits innocently with his knee jiggling.  Finally his prey walks out with a big fluffy towel around him and Stiles manages to keep his eyes on the man’s face, barely.

 

Skipping past, with his own set of clothes, he smiles up at Derek, “Hey thanks for the save from the hailstones.  I made you some sandwiches, oh and there are some clothes on the bed, if they fit.”

 

Locking the bathroom door behind him he hurries out of his own wet, cold, icky clothes and steps under the warm steamy water of the shower in time to hear a loud threatening growl from a pissed off werewolf who’s no doubt discovered THAT orange and blue t-shirt that Stiles left out for him.

 

Grinning Stiles takes his time and lets a totally different Hale storm brew in his house.  He really needs to work on his fear responses because he’s fairly sure that him laughing is not the right thing to do.

 

There’s a bang on the door and a very low deep, “STILES!” Is thundered through the wood.

 

“Be out in a minute,” he singsongs back, good thing he made the sandwiches first.


End file.
